The Garden
by Denwa
Summary: The equation of love is C ≈ 2πr. [Sasuke, Sakura.] For Psychotic Female of Many Names.


**the garden**  
written by _china daiquiri_

(to psychotic female of many names with love.)

(i'm sorry i had to use "≈" instead of the equal signs—equal signs don't work.)  
(inspired by **yiruma**'s "river flows in you." it's beautifully heartbreaking.)

* * *

**i. and the equation of love—**

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_II. Complete the following exercises by using the formula for finding_ (an inkblot here)_—rcumference of a circle. Hint: use 3.14_ (scribble above that says "3.1415926535…") _for the approximate value of __π._

_Formula: C __≈ 2__π__r._

_-_

_1.) Find the circumference of a circle whose radius_ ("Radius? What was that again?").  
_Solve by using the formula __C __≈ 2__π__r,_

_C—_

_-_

_2.) Express "r" in terms of "C" and "π"_ (a scrawl of words that read: "Like as in the food or what?")

_r—_

_-_

_3.) Find the radius _("Radius?")_ of a circle whose circumference is 18.84—_(added on: "—3513759067345231")

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And as he walked on by, his head up and giving lingering looks from underneath thick black eyelashes, his aristocratic nose tinged a light pink and his high cheeks chafed by the wind, he spotted her paper, gingerly lifted it up like a father would to his son's paper and didn't know, after a wry smile settled on his lips, whether to laugh (quietly, of course—he was Uchiha Sasuke, after all; he did not laugh much) at her silent rebellion or frown at her childish manner.

(She, at dinner, while taking her chopsticks and dipping them into her cup of green tea—something he had taught her; she was to become the next Lady Uchiha and the Uchiha took pride in courtesy, rules, and the like—had remarked offhandedly that she liked seeing him smile; and she raised her head shyly and gave him one of her own; he pursed his lips and told her to eat, hiding a smile—maybe she didn't need to see it right now; right now, he had to watch her.

This might be the last. This might be the last.)

* * *

**ii. and the miles to go—**

(He watches her as she sits down, the folds of her pinstripe skirt underneath her—she's crouching down, keeping the weight of her slight frame on her calves—and dips her hand in water and dries them on the light yellow towel next to her and takes a cherry tomato; pops it into her mouth like it's nothing, like it doesn't _mean _anything—maybe he's just overreacting or something but it _should_; it _should_, to her.

It's ten in the morning; she says, "Sasuke-kun, when are you going to leave?" lightly, like he was always leaving; like he was always running away; he was, he really was, and so he lifts up his calloused hands and touches her cheek gently because maybe gentleness was the only thing that he could be around her; maybe it was the only thing he could give to her after all this kindness, all this love, and it hurts, it _hurts_, _it hurts_ him so bad that maybe his heart just might burst—_Idon'tdeservethisIdon'tdeservethisI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry_ is the only thing running through his head—not _Iloveyousomuch_, not _I'llmissyou_, not _I'llbebacksoon_.

He gets up—she looks stricken, like he's the last thing keeping her alive; like she's drowning, dying even, and he's the only one that can reach into the depths of the murky water and pull her up—_Ican'tIcan't_ is what comes next; always _Ican'tdothis_ and _I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry_; why can't he say something else?—and with a look that lasted a half a second too long, he turns around, his back facing her, and says quietly, "I'm… —")

He leaves after that; he opens and shuts the door; he walks across the village; he prays that the crying he heard when the door closed wasn't real.

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_Note: two linear equations with the same variables, such as the ones above, are called "simultaneous linear equations_ ("Does Sasuke-kun know this stuff?")_ in two variables."_

_1.)_

_8x + 3y ≈ 30  
5x + 3y ≈ 21_

("So what am I supposed to do here?")

_Solve (1) minus (2):  
3x ≈ 9  
x ≈ 3_

_Substituting this into (1):_

_24 + 3y ≈ 30  
3y ≈ 6  
y ≈ 2_

_Answer (x, y): (3, 2)_

_2.)  
7x + 2y—_

("You know what? Forget it. I give up on this.")

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And she fell asleep.

* * *

**iii. ****and the early waking hours—**

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_Sasuke-kun_, reads the note; _I'm sorry. _

_I'm so sorry_.

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With a jolt, he wakes up, pushes himself off of his bed, ignoring the protests of his muscles, and immediately regrets it. It hurts; he's sore; he's not naked but he's in her (their) bed, breathing in the scent of her; she smells of distinctive flowers and fruit… and… and something else, he just can't remember; he feels like nothing, light, breathy, airy, his head feels like it's pounding, pounding; it _hurts_, and she's not there.

Not there. Not—

"Sakura?" he calls out softly but it echoes; the house is empty; he is scared for her, suddenly so scared—_Whatcouldhavehappenedtoher?_ Hoarsely yells his mind, scared as well; he's _scared_ of this house, doesn't know why he wasn't to live in it, is probably a masochist; he's scared for her; he doesn't know where she is; he's panicking like she is air and she suddenly left him for something else, someone else; _doesn'tknowwhere_—he hates this feeling; he hates it; _hates it—_so much—he—

"_Sakura?_" With an emphasis on the first syllable, and he get down, wincing at the pain (everywhere, everywhere). The first step was the hardest, tremors of pain shot through his body—he had felt like this when his parents were murdered, didn't he?

"Sakura, Sakura…"—barely whispers; he hears something—in the garden, the garden somewhere, so he moves, moves quickly like—

The sound was the hose. She was… —

And then he pulls open the sliding doors and he runs to her blindly, surprising her, embraces her like he was a man possessed; she drops it, she drops it and holds him back, a little angry, a little confused, a little worried, but loved, loved, _loved_. "Sakura" is the only thing that comes out of his mouth; he hates it, he loves it, he doesn't know anymore.

"Sasuke-kun? You should be sleeping."

It's the tenderness that makes him want to cry; it's the gentleness that makes him want to shove her—_shove her_, because he _hates her, hates her, hates_ her… but it's not true, is it?—against a tree and yell at her; _Whycan'tyou—!?_ but nothing comes out, then; nothing. There's nothing he can say to her; she's not twelve; she won't cry.

"Ten in the morning," she says to him, and he won't ever let go.


End file.
